Box of Letters
by Bluest-of-Jayys
Summary: Sweden and Finland easily have a century of unspoken history between each other, all documented in a series of unsent letters. Now, as a "married" couple in modern times, it's about time that they were shared. Originally written for SuFin Surströmmiaki Fest on Dreamwidth.
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

The story Sweden read to Sealand and Ladonia before they went to bed was pulled from a book of fairy tales, beginning with the words "Once upon a time" and ending with "and they lived happily ever after." By the time the last words left Sweden's lips, the micronations were barely conscious enough to recognize that Finland had also strolled into the room and kissed them goodnight.

"Thank you for reading them to sleep, honey," Finland leaned his head on Sweden's chest in a sort of hug. He smelled like dust and age; he had been taking their winter clothing down from the attic.

"No problem," whispered Sweden, giving his sleepy sons a kiss before leading Finland out of the room. The attic trapdoor was still open, the ladder still down, and piles of boxes scattered across the hallway floor. "Got everythin' down all right?"

Finland nodded. "I found something I wanted to show you, too," he held up a medium-sized box, browned and brittled with age and sealed shut with a rusted iron lock. Sweden furrowed his brow. The box looked a little too similar to something private he owned and happened to be storing in the attic as well and he couldn't help but worry. "I just need something to drink first, though," Finland laughed nervously, noticing Sweden's stare, "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."

"Mm. I'll close the attic up for ya," offered Sweden, brushing dust out of Finland's hair before kissing his forehead.

Finland leaned into the touch. "Sweden, you're an angel," he cooed adoringly, eyelids lowered, voice tinged with love and a little sadness.

"Nnh. You are," replied Sweden.

Finland laughed. "If this gets any more sappy, I'll have a hard time pulling myself off of you," he laughed, "like syrup. Close the attic and I'll get the fire going."

"Mmkay." Sweden watched Finland tiptoe down the stairs before climbing into the attic and pulling the cord that lit up the single bulb dangling from the ceiling. Seeing Finland's box brought back memories; he had the sinking feeling that Finland had accidentally found one of his most personal belongings. His worries were unfounded, though, as he found his own antique box precisely where he'd left it years before.

_This thing hasn't been touched since around 1950,_ he noted, blowing off the thick layer of dust that had settled on the box. The lock had rusted so much that a single touch sent it crumbling to the floor, and Sweden was able to flip the lid open.

Letters. His box contained letters dated from 1809 to about 1950. They smelled like old paper and ink.

Most notably, they were all addressed to Finland.

_A century's worth of unspoken words,_ Sweden thought, smiling sadly, _those were some hard times._

But the 1800's had long passed. He was sure that his own wounds had healed. Knowing Finland, his should have done the same.

Sweden closed the box and tucked it under his arm. _Why not,_ he reasoned, _it's about time I showed him these anyway. They're for him, after all._

He turned off the light, closed the attic, and made his way downstairs.

**XxX**

Finland sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, letting the crackle of the flames soothe the adrenaline flowing through his veins. His box, the one possession of his he never shared with Sweden, sat in front of him unopened. He'd come across the box hidden underneath their Christmas tree, and upon remembering what it contained, he almost wanted to hurl it out of the window.

His better judgement had prevented that.

_I wonder why I saved all of these?_ Finland mused as he broke the lock and lifted the lid. _Letters. For Sweden. From _Back Then… He couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him at the thought. The decision to share them with Sweden was realized with a little bit of reluctance, as these letters described him at his ugliest. There was easily a century of unspoken turmoil contained in these documents, and Sweden deserved to know, because it was their history.

_We have a family now,_ he thought,_ I can't hide these anymore; every feeling I've had towards him during the 19th century, positive or negative, is written in these letters, and he needs to know if we want to call our recovery a "happy ending."_

Sweden's sudden arrival startled Finland out of his musings. In his arms, he carried his own box, nearly identical to Finland's own. "Hello, love," Finland greeted, patting the space next to him. "Have a seat."

Sweden placed his box down. "Old letters?" he asked, his suspicions confirmed.

Finland poured two glasses of wine, one for each of them. "Old, unsent letters from the 1800s. Written by yours truly," he added with a wry smile.

Sweden's heart leapt into his throat. "Coincidence," he replied nervously, "Got a box of old, unsent letters from th' 1800s here too. Also written by yers truly." He felt his pulse quicken at the way Finland's violet eyes widened.

"Well," Finland answered, mystified, "I'm glad I'm not the only one." He pulled the first letter out of his box. "I might as well give them to you now. Better late than never, y'know."

"Read them to me," Sweden said softly, lips pressed against the rim of his wine glass, "wanna hear 'em in yer voice."

Finland peered up at Sweden through lowered lashes. "Only if you read me yours," he answered, all traces of his humorous nature suppressed.

"Deal."

And with that, Finland began to read.

**XxX**

_January, 1810_

_Dear Sweden,_

_ First of all, happy New Year._

_ Secondly, how could you have left me like that, Sweden? You turned a blind eye to my tears and my love. What am I to you, Sweden? After nearly seven centuries together, am I no more to you than an object to be discarded at will? I trusted you with my love, Sweden. You are incorrigible. _

_ To anyone who asks, I claim to hate you. I find your actions deplorable, you monster of a man. _

_ However, I cannot stop thinking back to the happy days we spent together. The wars we won, fighting side-by-side and he peace we shared at the lake by your home all ended the same way, with your arms curled around me as we drifted off to sleep. I miss those wars. I miss the peace between them. I miss the warmth of your body surrounding me during those cold winter nights. And as I miss them, they develop a bitter taste within my mind. I want to reject them from where they are lodged in my brain and my heart. I am filled with both hatred and love for you, Sweden. O God help me, for I am fickle and weak!_

_ Even as I pray to God, I think of you, for you are the one who introduced me to Christianity during the Crusades all those years ago. We were not much older than children, mere babes clinging to the handles of swords, and yet we were still together. _

_ Why did I let you into my country all those centuries ago? I should have trusted my childish instincts of fear and barred you from ever entering my lands. Even then, I knew you would destroy me. What I did not know was that it would be from the inside out._

_ All my love and then some,_

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

The last words of Finland's letter were smothered by his own choked sobs. _I thought I was ready for this,_ he sniffled,_ I guess not._

He had done such a thorough job of transcribing the pain weighing him down that it still affected him 200 years later. Even Sweden seemed affected, trying to rationalize his wife's pain with the fact that it was all in the past. Looking up at Sweden, Finland bit his lip and awaited a response.

"'M sorry," Sweden breathed, a mixture of shame, awe and alcohol coloring his face, "This how y' really felt?"

"It's the truth," sighed Finland, "you hurt me, Sve…"

Sweden glowered.

"...But I still loved you. Although all that did was make it hurt even more," Finland let the letter flutter to the floor, gazing into his wine glass.

"Loved ya too, Fin. Wrote letter after letter t' ya, but I never sent any 'cause I was a big coward. Here, listen." Sweden picked up his own letter and began to read.

**XxX**

_September 1811_

_My dear Finland,_

_ It has been two years, my love, and I have neither heard from you nor have I been able to dislodge you from neither my heart nor my thoughts._

_ You are absent, yet your presence survives within the confines of my home. I see you in front of the fireplace, the flames flickering in the violet eyes that I love so much. You smile as it warms the sadness from your heart, and I long to kiss the upward curve of those lips. _

_I see you in the yard, gathering herbs and chopping wood, refusing my help with a determined grin. (I only wish you would let me take some of the load off of your back, dearest.)_

_I see you in the kitchen preparing the deer you had so swiftly killed mere hours before. Most strikingly, I see you in our former bed, sleeping soundly or moaning loudly beneath me, gazing at me with an expression that can only be described as "pure love."_

_ I imagine you showing that expression to Russia and it kills me from the inside. Have you been showing them to him, Finland? Have you let him into your heart like you've let me in?_

_ I deeply regret leaving you to him. I want to sneak in under cover of the night and steal you back. It is merely a selfish whim, but I want to be able to kiss your feet and atone for my sins. _

_ All I can hope is that he treats you well, and that we will be able to be together once again in the future, so I can treat you much better. _

_ Yours truly,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

"You thought I was having sex with Russia that soon?" Finland raised an eyebrow, "I don't move _that_ fast, y'know."

Sweden simply looked into the fire. "Insecurities," he said, his voice heavy. Finland simply nodded and took another swig of wine. He knew exactly what Sweden meant. "Why didn't y' write t' me?" asked Sweden, eyes now fixed on Finland, waiting for an answer.

"Russia intercepted my letters without me knowing," answered Finland, "I thought they were being sent and that _you_ were the one who never replied. I found them right before I declared independence and hid them away in the attic when we moved in together."

"Doesn't sound like a very good boyfriend," Sweden jibed quietly.

Finland shook his head. "It was bound to be a complicated relationship from the start," he said, exasperation coloring his voice, "it couldn't have lasted."

"That's what y' said 'bout ours," a small smile graced Sweden's lips, "but look where we are."

This time, Finland laughed, a sound as warm as the crackling fire. "We're different, Sve," he leaned over and brushed his lips against Sweden's cheek, "we're way different."

* * *

**AN: This fic was written for Surströmmiaki Fest on Dreamwidth because I can't resist anything SuFin. ;) It's 5 chapters long, and I'll be posting them all up at the same time once the fic goes up on Dreamwidth. **

**My "historical research" comes from Wikipedia boohoo ;_; Sorry if there are any weird inaccuracies! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

The next letter Sweden promised to read was from his union with Norway, as long as Finland would share a couple from his time with Russia.

"Are y' sure y' want t' hear this?" warned Sweden, "Even I'm not sure if I want t' read these ever again."

"I could ask the same of you," replied Finland, voice shaky, "These are times that I think we'd both rather not look back on." He fidgeted with the carpet fringe, looking at Sweden anxiously.

"We could stop here," Sweden's words were terse, but his mind swam with internal pleas to end their night there and go no further. _Please, let's just stop, only pain can come out of this, pain we don't need, we can go to sleep happy if we just stopped here,_ Sweden reached over to take Finland's hand. Finland accepted the outstretched hand and clasped it in his own.

"I think this is something we both need to do, together," he said softly.

"Why?" Sweden looked crestfallen.

"I was thinking about this before you came down," began Finland, squeezing Sweden's hand, "times have changed. Everything's changed. We're a family now–you, me, Sea, and Ladonia–and we shouldn't have baggage from the old times weighing us down if we want to move forward," he looked up at Sweden, searching for affirmation, "and you know just as well as I do that neither of us can face this alone," he finished quietly.

Realization softened Sweden's features. Finland was right. If Fate really did not want them to live out their happy ending together, then so be it, but if they could work through each other's heavy history, then it was worth any potential argument the letters might herald.

Sweden sighed and kissed Finland's forehead. "If y' say so."

He braced himself for the oncoming storm and began to read.

**XxX**

_December 1815_

_Dear Finland,_

_ I'm sure that by now, you have heard of my "union" with Norway. The rest of the world has dubbed it a "marriage," and God might define it as such, but in both my heart and his, we know it is nowhere near that. _

_We kissed but once, at the signing of our union at the behest of others. All I could think of was how I missed your touch, your lips, and the sigh that would escape them after every time we kissed. _

_He sleeps in my bed for now, in the same spot you used to occupy. It is wrong; at the merest touch, he stiffens and glares because I stole him from his own love, just like how Russia stole you away from me. _

_ I am hurting him. I am hurting Denmark. I am hurting myself. Most of all, I am sure that I am hurting you, even if you have not sent a word my way since my betrayal and your depart. _

_ I am imbued with guilt. I forced Norway into this mess, even though he did not deserve it. He has done nothing to wrong me. We have wonderful conversations. Under different circumstances, I might even have come to love him. But I cannot, and neither can he, for there is someone else in both our hearts. _

_ I thought I could replace you and exact revenge on Denmark by taking Norway as my new "wife," but I have learned two things from this ordeal: Revenge is not as sweet as it seems, and you are irreplaceable. Unique. One of a kind. And I suffer for it._

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

Finland simply sighed and averted his eyes into the fire. The wine had blunted the remnants of the hurt feelings that lingered from those times, but he remembered clearly when Russia had told him, a small smile playing on his childish lips, that his darling Sweden had run off with Norway. He remembered the sharpness of his own screams and the warmth of Russia's arms as he fell into them for the first time.

_You're free now,_ Russia had said.

Finland hiccuped, tears forming in his eyes.

"This's a bad idea," Sweden threw the letter on the ground and moved to comfort Finland, who shied away from his touch. "Fin, Fin," he begged, "Let's jus' stop fer t'night."

Wiping his eyes on the backs of his hands, Finland recomposed himself and carded through his box of letters until he pulled out the one he was looking for. "This one, Sve," he sighed, "Just read this one." He placed the letter in Sweden's hand and went back to staring into the fire, lost again in his own thoughts.

**XxX**

_January 1818_

_Sweden,_

_ I can't believe you._

_ I can't believe you married Norway, of all people. You took a man in a perfectly happy relationship and claimed him as your new lover, your new "wife," as you would say. And so soon after you threw me away, Sweden. I only heard about it from Russia recently, but he tells me that you have been married since 1814. Five years after you left me. For humans, that is a long time, but for the likes of us, that is barely the time it takes to blink one's eye. _

_ I am beyond furious with you, Sweden. Yet, a decade later, I cannot forget you. I wish you would go to hell, Sweden. Burn and save me from this torture, hearing you've married Norway while I still pine over you so. Is he good in bed? Does he satisfy you like I did? I want to peel off my skin every time the thought creeps into my mind – "Sweden and Norway could be having sex at this very moment." Disgusting, Sve. You disgust me._

_ Happy New Year,_

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

"Harsh words," muttered Sweden, taken aback. He refolded the letter and tossed it at Finland's feet.

Staring at the letter as if it burnt him, Finland replied warily, "You'd be thinking the same thing if you were in my position, right?"

"I was." Sweden's tone of voice grew low and dangerous.

Finland's voice dropped to match Sweden's. "Don't," he warned, "you couldn't even fathom…"

"I could," Sweden whispered, picking up another letter from his box.

**XxX**

_July 1826_

_Finland,_

_ Norway tells me that you're with Russia now. The awful suspicions I've had since 1810 have now been confirmed._

_ Pain does not even begin to describe what I feel right now, but I will attempt to put the melange of emotions churning within me to words._

_How could you do this to me? Does seven centuries together not mean anything to you? _

_ I feel betrayed, Fin, yet I have no reason to be. I made the mistake of leaving you, and the irrefutable fact that I deserve this cuts into me like knives. Norway looks at me with a taunting smirk on his face because he knows this as well. He laughs and tells me that Russia has been treating you better than I ever have, that he gives you the love and freedom that I never gave to you._

_ I gave you my entire heart, Fin. Wasn't that enough?_

_ Most of all, I feel guilt. I am burdened by fifteen years of shame that I cannot be rid of._

_ I don't know who to hate more: myself or you. I cannot help but resent you slightly because you are in somebody else's arms now, in somebody else's bed when you belong in mine. _

_ Norway says that you are prone to Stockholm Syndrome. He knows you better than I do, and I resent that._

_ O Lord, I have been blind! Blind to the feelings of the man I claimed to love for seven hundred years! Blind to the person I have loved and cherished as my one and only wife! _

_ If you ever return to my arms, I will serve you for eternity in penance for my sins, Stockholm Syndrome or not._

_ Eternally yours,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

"It was _not_ Stockholm Syndrome," Finland huffed indignantly, "He treated me like gold while I was feeling like shit. I was grateful to him then!"

"I couldn't be sure of anything after that," snapped Sweden, "Do y'know how much it hurt t' realise that everythin' I thought was love was actually a hack'neyed survival instinct?" his face was twisted with rage and pain.

Finland stood up, spilling his wine and scattering letters. "You're not innocent, though. You said it yourself!"

"I loved ya, Fin!"

Finland's eyes narrowed. "Loved me? You never even _knew_ me!" he shrieked, "That's why you thought it was a great idea to go and fucking marry _Norway_, of all the people to replace me with!" his voice rose in pitch and volume. Face twisted with shock, Sweden stood up and grabbed Finland's wrists.

"I had no choice!" he hissed.

"You say you had no choice, but the choice was yours, Sve!" tears formed in Finland's eyes, yet he still held Sweden's gaze defiantly. "Norway's people elected your king as their leader. Your people," he choked on his words, "_You_ agreed to the union, all because you're a big coward who tossed me aside but couldn't let me go!"

Sweden leaned in close. Finland could smell the wine on his breath. "Yer too loud, Fin. Gonna wake up th' kids," he warned.

"Don't change the subject on me, Sweden!" Finland wailed in blatant disregard of Sweden's warning. Sweden glowered darkly as he watched Finland's screams dissolve into piteous sobs. "I can't believe you. I can't believe you. I can't believe I fell in love with such a hypocrite."

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were those of Finland's soft sniveling, Sweden's tense breathing, and the fire crackling behind them.

When Sweden spoke, his voice had become quieter than death. "Finland," he whispered, "Don't make yerself th' victim."

"You're the one who started this mess, Sve! How am I not the victim?" Finland's voice was desperate.

"'S not all about ya, Fin! Don't be so selfish!" Sweden snapped.

Finland snorted. "So you're saying that what you did wasn't selfish? Gosh, Sweden, I had no idea!"

It was then that Sweden realized that Finland was right. Even if Finland had been in the wrong back then, so was he, and the untidiness of the situation perplexed him. Why couldn't issues like this be black and white? His head hurt; he was in no condition to figure this century-long mess out. His eyes, cold and sharp, locked onto Finland's, and he felt himself regressing into his old habit of winning arguments by intimidation. He just couldn't think straight, and Finland was expecting an answer, despite how he trembled under Sweden's gaze.

Finally, Finland asked in a shaky voice: "Sweden?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

Sweden became deathly quiet, and Finland felt a fear he had not experienced for centuries scream through his veins as his husband set steely eyes on him.

"Sweden?" he asked, voice trembling.

"Good night, Finland," Sweden said sternly, turning away in retreat to the bedroom. Three simple words, usually uttered with love and accompanied by a kiss, this time rang with disappointment and danger. Finland's eyes narrowed at Sweden's receding form, trying to find something to say – an apology, maybe, or a last jab at Sweden's dignity – but nothing came to mind. Alone, he sunk to his knees among the letters, the only sounds now of his breathing and the weak crackle of the dying fire.

He sifted through the papers, vision blurred by alcohol and tears even as his sobs began to die down and his temper began to cool.

_I can't believe Sweden,_ Finland picked up a letter out of Sweden's box and turned it over in his hands, _Trying to avoid what he did, such a self-centered little… At least I had the balls to admit I was with Russia during that time! _

_ He went and stole Norway from Denmark and tried to use him as a substitute for me… What in the world brought him to do that? _

He gingerly opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. It was addressed to him, like all of the others, but this one had been written further along in the future.

**XxX**

_September 1880_

_My dearest Finland,_

_ Not a day has gone by where I have not thought of you. It has been 70 years since our split, and every night, I envision you in my arms (or vice versa) as I fall asleep._

_ Norway has now taken up residence in our old guest room for some reason. Relations are tense, but we've reached a mutual agreement: he does not touch me nor I him. We keep out of each other's way. He is a competent "wife," but nowhere near a loving one._

_ I've had enough time to think about us, I believe it's the only thing I've done for the past 70 years._ _Most of all, I want to know how you are doing. The last time we met, Russia's arm was draped around your shoulders and you refused to meet my eye. Does he treat you well? Is he a good lover? I long to know that you are in good hands, no matter how I wish those hands were mine. _

_ I've learned my lesson, Fin. How foolish was I to think that Norway could ever be a substitute for you, my only life, my only love? The only thing you two have in common is the color of your hair. _

_ Yours Forever,_

_ -Sweden_

Finland bit his lip and tossed the letter back into the pile. He wouldn't be able to look neither Norway nor Russia in the eye for the next few world meetings.

1880. What had he been doing in 1880? Finland picked up his spilt wine glass and eyed the stain on the carpet with disdain; it was brighter than blood and definitely wouldn't come out without witchcraft. _Nationalism,_ he thought as he searched the kitchen for paper towels to soak up the stain with, _Russia had encouraged my culture and tried to chase out nearly every trace of Sweden from my people and government,_ an amused smile crossed his face, _he thought it'd make me more loyal to him. That's one good thing that came out of my time with Russia, I guess…_

The paper towels had been used up; the empty roll still in the dispenser. _Where did Sweden put the new rolls?_ he stood in the kitchen and looked around, fidgeting. The longer he waited, the more the stain would set. Suppressing the desire to go upstairs and ask, Finland checked all the cabinets he could reach.

No paper towels.

He cast an annoyed glance at the upper cupboards. Leave it to Sweden to hide the paper towels in a place he couldn't reach. Climbing on the counter, he found the paper towel rolls in the cupboard above the dishwasher and brought them back into the living room. The stain had seeped into the carpet; Finland laid the towels over it and punched at the stain until it had been soaked up by the towels, then punched it a bit more just because it felt good. There was still a little bit of red in the carpet; he'd get it out later with some white wine. A small smile graced his lips and he sighed. Time to continue reading.

**XxX**

_October 1910_

_Dear Finland,_

_ I'm sure you will be happy to hear that Norway and I are no more._

_ They call it a "peaceful dissolution," but there was nothing to dissolve in the first place, as Norway had apparently been an independent country since 1814. _

_ He smiled at me, the first positive emotion I have seen since the beginning of our "marriage." "You are free to go," he said, "go to the man you love, and I'll go to mine." _

_ He returned to Denmark's arms the day after, not as a subservient party, but as an Denmark's equal, a nation of his own with an inexplicably strong affinity towards the brute. And here I am, wondering what is to be of my future, your future, our future. I've been nursing the hope that it will be ours, and if so, it will be as Norway's and Denmark's, where they are both their own men who love each other not out of duty but of pure, unadulterated love. Something that we can share, together. _

_ I have never stopped loving you, Finland. Even though I am bitter that you are with Russia and that he has been able to give you the freedom that I was never able to give you during our time together, you have always occupied the better part of my heart and mind. _

_ I desire to begin our relationship anew, but differently. Gone are the days of charging into your home with my sword in my hand and Christianity on my tongue. Gone are the days of leading you into my wars at the expense of your beloved people, and I'm sorry that those days ever existed. The world has changed, my cherished Finland, and so must we, if we are ever to survive. _

_Sincerely,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

_"We," huh?_ Finland smirked, _he's always thought of us as a single unit, even back then._ The thought warmed his heart. Sweden cared so much, and he was surprisingly perceptive about the world around him, even if it did not concern him.

His anger towards Sweden had evaporated, leaving shame in its wake. Sweden knew that his actions throughout the entire 1800's had been wrong and his letters showed it.

_I need to apologize to him,_ he sighed, refilling his wine glass, _we need to clear up some things. Arguing was _not_ the best way to do that. Ugh, Finland, you idiot!_

Chastising himself in clipped thoughts wouldn't help. Finland took a deep breath (and an unusually long sip of wine) before he picked up another letter, this one dated after his independence, and began to read.

**XxX**

_December 1920_

_Dear Finland,_

_ Congratulations on your independence. _

_ It is both so strange yet so natural to see you standing tall, proud, and alone. You showed up at the first League of Nations meeting with your head held high and a steel in your eyes that I have never seen before._

_ It was the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. _

_You looked me in the eyes and said "hello, Sweden." I have never desired anyone so badly, not even you before our split. _

_ Finland, forgive me. I cannot help but suppress these unsavory feelings towards you. I want you to pin me down and ravish me the way I once ravished you. Most of all, I want to feel your new, magnificent power driving into me. _

_ If we ever have the chance, I would like for you to teach me your language. I want to see the world in the odd way that do, the one that has always been unique to you. I want to swallow up the words that sprinkle from your lips like spring rain, to taste them on my tongue, and repeat them back to you with enough fervor to make you fall in love with me once more._

_ You don't need to do anything to make me yours again, my love. I've been yours since the beginning of time._

_ All my love and then some,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

Finland couldn't help but let out a laugh. Sweden looked cool on the outside, but he was as naughty as they came, no matter how poetic his words were. He especially enjoyed the extra sap in this particular letter. Sweden had never been one for spoken word, but he was so over-the-top in his letters that Finland had to remind himself that they were being written by the same person.

He sighed dreamily, gazing at the letter in his hand. _Sweden is fallible, _he realized, _and parts of him are so very fragile, despite his strength. He did wrong,_ he thought with a renewed calmness,taking another sip of wine, _and he knows it. _

Suddenly, Finland felt very sick. He wanted to see Sweden now, but the other man was most likely asleep and would not take too kindly to being awakened, on top of his simmering anger from before. Sweden needed space, and Finland had to respect that. He fought down the urge to sprint upstairs and rooted himself to the ground before picking up another letter.

**XxX**

_November 1939_

_My love,_

_ This may be the last letter I have to hide, because I'm coming for you. _

_ Love,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

Finland's heart stopped in his chest. The note was short, but that date… His Winter War. Sweden had explained to him over and over that his boss refused to outright support Finland militarily, but Sweden had covertly organized volunteers to fight alongside Finland's men. Granted, Sweden had been less passionate and more professional about it, but it was the spark that helped them reignite their relationship.

_A grand romantic gesture_, Russia joked bitterly, but Sweden had vehemently insisted that he had done it because it was the right thing to do. Finland had simply taken Sweden's words at face value. Either way, they'd started talking again, which had led to something else entirely.

He searched through the letters, trying to find one written at a later date, and found only one, dated a good ten years after the official rekindling of their relationship.

**XxX**

_December 1950_

_Finland, my love, my light, my heart_

_I found these old letters from our stormy separation, and with them, I found the memories. I found the pain I caused myself, you, Denmark, and Norway, and I am deeply sorry. A thousand apologies would not be enough to convey my shame, and a thousand prayers would not be enough to convey how thankful I am that Denmark and Norway still call me "friend" and that you call me so much more._

_ The surprise I felt when you agreed to step into my arms again! You kissed me and I suddenly felt so alive, more alive than I ever have been since our separation. _

_ You are so much more lively. It is different, but I feel like I am just now discovering the real you, the charming, spunky, intelligent man who I unfortunately squashed under the oppressive thumb of my reign. I'm falling in love all over again, and I promise to you that history will never repeat itself, because I have learned my lesson._

_ Oh, Finland, how was I ever so lucky to spend my life with such an indescribable man? And how was I ever such a fool to miss most of that? _

_ We have our second chance, Finland, and I swear that act II of our play will be a happier one._

_ Yours forever,_

_ -Sweden_

**XxX**

"...Sweden…" breathed Finland. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, but these were not ones of anger or sadness. Rather, they stemmed from the pure love that Finland felt towards his Sweden, and the relief that came from finally knowing Sweden's true feelings.

Finland could have gone on reading letters all night, but the drowsy flutter of his eyes and his inability to sit up straight anymore told him that he was too tired and too tipsy to stay awake. Yawning, he shuffled the letters he'd read into a pile at the center of the room, extinguished the fire, and crept upstairs quietly, so as to not wake the rest of his family.

"Sve," Finland tiptoed into their shared bedroom, feeling lighter than he had an hour before. His heart sunk a little, however, when he saw Sweden roll over and draw the covers higher up around him. Finland slid into bed.

"Sweden," he whispered again, trying to draw closer to his husband, who lay stiff, body curled in on itself in the fetal position, blocking out Finland. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't judge you now for the mistakes you made years ago. I know you learned, and you took responsibility because you're good like that," he sighed, "I love you, Sweden."

Yet his husband persisted in being a stubborn ass and remained closed-off from Finland, only replying with a sleepy grunt. Slightly disheartened, Finland settled for pressing his face against the hardness of Sweden's back and falling asleep, slightly soothed by the knowledge that his apology had been heard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4**

Normally, Sweden would have already been lulled to sleep by the sweet sounds of Finland's soft breathing, if not by his own tiredness, but tonight, he just couldn't sleep. Finland was still pressed pathetically against his back and while it made Sweden beyond happy that his wife had forgiven him, he couldn't help but be a little angry, both at himself and Finland.

He had done wrong. He was willing to admit to that, at least.

However, he was most angry at the fact that Finland's words held truth, and what he needed most was to have his anger ebbed away by the gentleness of sleep and accept Finland's apology (and his logic) when morning had renewed him, then they could go on with their happy lives, rather than being tired and angry and potentially starting another argument in the morning when one wasn't necessary.

Sweden rose out of bed. He needed something to drink, maybe a short walk around the house followed by gazing out the window at the moon.

Finland had said something about the moon when they withdrew from the Kalmar Union. Something about it being "pretty."

On his way downstairs, Sweden passed the living room. The room was now dark, save for a couple of embers glowing in the fireplace which dimly illuminated the scattered letters on the floor.

There were more letters scattered than he remembered; it seemed that Finland had spent the last hour or two doing some reading.

Sweden knelt and scanned the letters that had been read. Most of them were his.

Finland had read his letters.

Finland had read his letters, unraveled the mystery of what Sweden had been thinking for the greater part of the 1800's, and forgiven him.

Finland had forgiven him.

_Sweden, you old fool,_ he sat down in front of the fireplace, picked up Finland's box, and cradled it in his lap, _How could you ever have taken this man for granted?_

_I should have just told him,_ reasoned Sweden. Despite being the only one awake in the house, he felt the rising urge to hide somewhere and wait out his shame and guilt. _Coulda saved a lot of trouble, both then and now._

He recalled Finland's words from their fight; how could he not? It was the only thing he could recall right now.

_Loved me? You hardly even _knew_ me!_

Sweden shivered. The room was cold. He relit the fire before sitting down and staring at the pile of letters before him.

Then it dawned on him. These were _Finland's_ letters, written by Finland himself, capturing every thought and emotion of his, good or bad, and Sweden had access to these bits of Finland's past that he never bothered to understand until now.

_I guess this is the perfect time to get to know you, then,_ he thought with renewed vigor, picking up one of Finland's letters.

**XxX**

_February 1868_

_Dear Sweden,_

_ No matter how much I'd rather not admit it, writing these letters has become a therapeutic thing for me. It seems that I can't help but blather to you, no matter how far away you are. _

_ I am no longer filled with rage like I have been for the past few years. You clearly love me no more, so it is time for me to move on as well. _

_ Russia has been a wonderful lover so far, and I have nothing to complain about. He has comforted me in my time of need and I am in debt to him. He gives me my freedom, encourages my language and culture, and embraces my true self, which is something you sadly never did in all the years we have been together. _

_ I am doing well. Industrialization has come to my country, starting in my new capital, Helsinki. Next year, they will begin putting up telegraph lines. Telegraph lines! Can you believe it? The amazing things that technology brings us these days! The letters I've been hiding from you will soon be obsolete, Sweden. I will have to start hiding telegraphs from you in the coming years instead!_

_ I feel freer than a bird in the expanses of the blue sky now, and because of this, I can ask you: how are you and Norway doing? I would be lying if I said that I was not bitter that you married him so soon after our separation, but you are a man worth forgiving, Sweden. I forgive you._

_ Even if this letter will never reach you, thank you for listening._

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

_I don't think this is helping,_ Sweden brooded, feeling worse than before. The last thing he wanted to hear about, ever, was how well Russia had treated Finland compared to Sweden. He was struck by a pang of insecurity; why had Finland returned to him when he could have had anyone he wanted?

He did find relief in how lighthearted Finland's letter was, though. Finland had barely told him anything about his time with Russia, and Sweden had gotten worried. At least he had been happy during those strange and confusing times.

As he re-read the last few lines, a smile spread across his lips. Twice now Finland had forgiven him, a rare thing, because Sweden knew that Finland was the type of person that, if punched nine times, would punch back ten times as hard if wronged a tenth time. He'd seen it happen to Russia in person, which made it even scarier.

To have Finland forgive him was a precious gift that Sweden knew he couldn't squander, and the fact that he had received it so many times over dispelled the bad feelings churning within him. Spirits lifted, he began to read another letter.

**XxX**

_June 1884 _

_Precious Sweden,_

_ Nowadays, I find myself missing you more and more. Do not think that I am not fond of my newfound "freedom." I am, but I just want to see you again, and everywhere I look, I see a little part of you that you've left behind. _

_ My lands still ring with the sound of your language. These Fennoswedes, born from the unity of both our cultures, are a reminder that you have always been a part of me, even if I am now my own person. It is a bit of a conflict, I admit. _

_ Forgive me for sounding hackneyed, but I've always thought that we were destined for each other, in a way. It sounds foolish, but it explains everything: why I am no longer mad at you, why I miss you so, why you still affect me so after my wounds have healed and I've been given my freedom. _

_ I know it is wrong to nurture the remnants of my love for you while I am in this odd little cat-and-dog relationship with Russia, which is a story for another letter, but I want the truth to be inscribed in ink:_

_ I miss you, Sweden._

_ Yours truly,_

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

It was enough to break the dam in Sweden's chest and send him into fits of sobbing: Finland had loved and missed him, despite being free to do otherwise and despite Sweden's mistakes.

A faint purple stain on the carpet caught Sweden's eye; it was the wine Finland had spilled during their argument, now cleaned up, for the most part. _I read that white wine can clean up red wine,_ he recalled, pulling himself to his feet and heading to the kitchen in search of the neutralizer.

Thankfully, there was a little bit left over, hidden in the very back corner of their alcohol cupboard. Sweden had to stand on tiptoe in order to access it, despite his height. With the bottle in his hand, he returned to the living room and carefully poured the white wine over the red wine stain. It dissolved in a way reminiscent of blood in a rainstorm. Specifically, it reminded Sweden of all the battles he'd fought over the years with Finland at his side. They'd been covered in their blood and the blood of their friends and enemies, all dirt and violence and pain, only to have it wash away once the skies opened up and the rain fell, leaving clear skin in its wake.

Finally reading each others' letters was similar, Sweden figured, because they were covered in the dirt and violence and pain of the 19th century, and with the closure came the cleanliness of a new start and a happy ending. _Pretty deep, Sweden,_ he smiled smugly at his realization.

He unfolded another letter.

**XxX**

_October 1903 _

_My cherished Sweden,_

_ Remember how we used to talk whenever my thoughts ran so fast that I could not keep up with them? You used to take me somewhere comfortable, sit me down, and just listen to whatever nonsense I spewed, then loved me for it?_

_ Just one of the numerous things I find myself missing about you, especially now, during these turbulent times._

_ Oh, Sweden, I've been such a fool! For years, I was under the impression that Russia was giving me freedom, but he has been grooming me to make me his! He has secretly been trying to pry you from my heart, my memories, the places that you belong, only to replace those things with himself. He has tempted me with my own freedom then broke his promises, but it is too late for him. My people have tasted liberty. The Finnish language flows freely from our tongues, and no ridiculous Russian manifesto will change that. He has even been trying to conscript my people into his army, can you believe? Just thinking about it makes me so angry, but we are in no condition to wage war, at least not now. _

_ For now, we are resisting passively, strengthening our cultural identity. Russia has made a terrible mistake, and before long, he will taste the fierceness of the Finns for years to come. _

_ We will not be subjugated again. _

_ Thank you for listening,_

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

As he read Finland's letter, Sweden envisioned the other nation sitting at his writing desk, feet apart and planted into the ground, pouring his feelings onto the paper so furiously that he threatened to snap the pen he held in two. It sent a shiver of awe down Sweden's spine.

Finland had always been strong, but that strength had been channeled through Sweden. In the mess that befell his country, Finland stood alone, as proud as ever. It brought a little bit of nostalgia to Sweden's heart, like watching a child grow into a man.

Sweden just wished that he could have been there during those difficult times, supporting Finland as Finland had supported him.

He shook his head. _Things turned out fine, nothing to worry about. He's a strong one,_ thought Sweden fondly as he picked up another letter.

_December 1920 _

_Precious Sweden, _

_ I'm sure you've heard of my independence by now. I am my own nation, Sweden! It's absolutely thrilling, especially walking into my first League of Nations meeting all by myself! I'm getting giddy just thinking about it again!_

_ It's so nice to see you, especially after so long. You're just as handsome as I remember, maybe even more so. I think it's the smouldering glances you've been throwing at me when you thought I wasn't looking. _

_ I'm glad to know that you feel the same way as I do. _

_ I've been hurt, I've been angry, and I've been bitter, but I have never outright hated you, Sweden. Seeing you again gave me quite the case of whiplash, though, but in a good way. I can't help but think of the times you looked at me like that, all love and lust and desire, in the rooms of our old house, and now you're giving me those looks in _public_? It's driving me mad! _

_ I'm ready to love again if you are, Sve. Just send me another one of those looks and maybe I'll talk about something other than the weather. _

_Lastly, you looked a little thin, too... have you been eating well? Or has something been eating at you instead? _

_ Subjugation. Am I correct?_

_I've long stopped blaming you for that, though. We lived in different times; you had no choice but to subjugate me. _

_ My only wish is that if we ever had the chance to do our relationship all over again, you would love and embrace who I am, not as Russia did, but in your own, awkward, lovable way. _

_ Yours forever,_

_ -Finland_

**XxX**

Sweden searched for any letters written at a later date, but found none, because that was when Finland had found it in himself to approach a dumbstruck Sweden and tell him how nice winter was, a knowing smile painted on his lips. _I was so awkward,_ he recalled fondly, but not without a twinge of embarrassment, _I can't believe he noticed those looks I was giving him._

He quickly decided that this was his favorite letter. He loved how casual Finland's voice was, yet how easily it conveyed his feelings, and Sweden wanted to hang onto every word. Especially those concerning love.

The best part, though, was that Sweden understood _everything_ now.

It seemed that Finland had broken out of his victim mindset long ago, and only acted out because he had indeed been wronged. Sweden felt the burn of humiliation rush across his cheeks, because he really was the one who had wronged Finland. Yet, somehow, Finland had returned to him on his own volition and most importantly stayed.

It was then that Sweden realized he was one hell of a lucky guy.

"Need t' apologize t' Fin in some way," he mumbled to himself. He wasn't so great with spoken words; he mostly let his actions do the talking.

Looking at the multitude of letters in front of the fireplace, an idea struck him. Slowly, he began to gather each and every one of his and Finland's letters into a pile in the center of the room, making careful note of the dates they were written.

Somewhere in Finland and Sweden's shared office, there was an empty scrapbook, bought at the crafts store years ago with the unfulfilled promise that Finland would try taking up scrapbooking as a hobby. Sweden was 110% sure that his wife wouldn't miss it.

He retrieved the scrapbook, which was the type that had clear plastic sheeting over all its pages, and set it aside as he searched for the oldest letter written between the two of them. It happened to be a letter that he wrote, dated December 1809. Sweden smiled to himself as he smoothed it out and slid it between the plastic sheets of the first page, then went back to searching for the next consecutive date.

Long into the night he worked, only pausing to wrap himself in his winter coat for warmth. Eventually, his eyes grew bleary and his movements weak, and he fell asleep among his and Finland's letters as the flames in the fireplace shrank and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5**

Finland woke up from an uneasy slumber as soon as the first rays of the sun hit the backs of his eyelids. The first thing he noticed was that he was alone in bed.

"Sweden?" he called quietly, slipping on his robe and a pair of slippers before padding around the house in search of his husband.

Luckily, finding Sweden was not very hard. Finland found the man curled up in front of the cold fireplace among the letters, sleeping on top of an open scrapbook with his winter coat covering his shoulders.

"Sweden," Finland shook his husband's shoulder to rouse him, "Sweden, what have you been doing?"

Sweden regarded his wife through bleary eyes. "Sortin' letters," he mumbled, "It's a story."

Finland disregarded Sweden's eccentricity and wrapped him in his arms. "You must be freezing! Have you been down here all night?"

Nodding, Sweden held out the album. Pressed between the plastic sheets of each page were most of their letters, organized by date. "Been makin' this. Figured that we argued last night 'cause we didn't know each other's stories until now. Not worth it t' argue if we don't know th' whole story, both sides."

"Oh, Sve…" Finland breathed, flipping through the pages, "you unbelievable, brilliant romantic…"

Sweden couldn't help but smile proudly at this.

"Ah, it's not done yet?" Finland asked, noticing the scads of letters still strewn all over the floor and the empty pages in the album.

Sweden shook his head. "Still gotta go through th' 1900's."

"Let me help you, then." Finland knelt besides Sweden and began to look through the letters, mostly checking on dates to add them to the book. The fire had long gone out and their toes were cold, but the sun streaming in through the living room window would warm them up soon enough.

"What brought ya t' show me yer letters?" Sweden asked. He regarded Finland with curiosity, all animosity from the night before gone.

"It's been 200 years, I thought I was strong enough to handle the argument that I knew would follow." Finland's eyes were cast at the ground. "I guess I wasn't, though."

"Y' are. Y' showed me those letters of yers while knowin' th' consequences. Takes some incredible strength." Sweden held up one of Finland's letters, saw that it was the right date, and slid it in at the end of the album.

They worked in comfortable silence as the sun rose, illuminating their work with its warm rays. Sweden wrapped an arm around Finland's shoulders and pulled him close, causing his name to be breathed out in small sighs.

"Sve.."

"'M sorry, Fin. Always knew I'd taken y' against yer will all those years ago. Thought ya'd want freedom, but didn't know how t' give it t' ya."

Finland smiled and pressed closer to Sweden, looking the taller nation in the eye. "I did want freedom, but I wanted you, too. Besides, who's to say that I'm not free now? Back then, times were different. If we wanted to be together, I had no choice but to be your servile state."

"Didn't want that though, wanted y' t' be m' equal. Couldn't find a way."

Finland shook his head. "I did. That's how I got my independence, y'know?" he smiled at the floor, "For all it's worth, I'm a little glad that it happened, 'cause it really changed things between us for the better."

Leaning over so his forehead rested against Finland's shoulder, Sweden replied, "Me too. Feel like I know everythin' now."

"Me too," answered Finland, "we were always told to learn from our past mistakes so we never had to repeat them, after all. "

"Do y' think we've learned from our mistakes?" asked Sweden.

"Are we repeating history?"

"No…"

Finland laughed. "Then I'd say we did," he covered Sweden's hands with his own, warmed from work, and sighed happily. "From now on, Sve, let's just talk to each other. No more secret unsent letters being hid for centuries."

**XxX**

By the time Sealand and Latvia came downstairs, Finland and Sweden were enjoying a warm cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Their book of letters sat between them, like a trophy of war or a prize won from a hard game. Naturally, it piqued the boys' curiosity.

"Hey, mama, papa, what's that?" Sealand asked, pointing at the book.

Finland and Sweden shared a sheepish glance before Sweden smiled knowingly and replied, "A happy ending."

This seemed to excite the micronations. "Like the one you read to us last night?" Ladonia asked, eyebrow arched.

"Oh, can you read this one to us tonight, then?" Sealand asked, eyes sparkling with anticipation for a new story.

Sweden shrugged. "'F course. 'S an excitin' tale 'f love, heartbreak, an'..."

"You can't read that to them!" Finland cut Sweden off before jumping out of his seat, grabbing the book, and clutching it to his chest. "They're too young for this kind of thing, Sve! Way too young!"

Sweden simply laughed, low and rumbling, as Finland went on and on about how kids did not need to be subjected to this sort of "_thing"_, not yet, and how personal some of those letters got, and that maybe they should just go and watch a couple of Disney movies instead, which got the boys excited enough for Disney movies that they immediately fled the room and planted themselves in front of the TV with their bowls of cereal.

After popping _Beauty and the Beast_into the DVD player, Finland came back to the kitchen and sat in Sweden's lap. "Happy ending, huh?" he asked playfully.

Sweden looked from the book of letters to Sealand and Ladonia in the living room before finally meeting Finland's loving gaze with a small, fond smile.

There was nothing else he needed to say.


End file.
